Mass readings for the 4th Sunday of Easter (Good Shepherd):
Acts 13.14, 43-52 Psalm 100.1-3, 5 Revelation 7.9, 14b-17 John 10.27-30
People are sheep. You’ve probably heard that before. We’re easily led, or rather, misled. That’s what’s implied by the comparison. Easily startled, frightened, and then herded by those willing to manipulate those fears for their own purposes. It’s also a matter of our appetites too. Unrestrained by a good shepherd and his faithful sheepdog, sheep will wander far and wide through a valley or across a mountainside pasture as they munch through the grass, looking no further than to the next fresh, green clump of food. They often don’t see danger coming till it’s too late.
And Jesus, more or less, confirms that assessment. He talks about us as sheep, but makes a distinction: we are all sheep, but some of us belong to him—and note, not all of us belong to him.
“My sheep hear my voice,” that is, not all sheep hear him. “I know them” – well, in a sense, being God, he knows all of us whether we belong to him or not, “and they follow me.” So, how do you know that you’re one of Christ’s flock? You follow him.
However, among the consistent elements of the gospel stories that we hear through the course of a year’s masses, the course of the three-year lectionary cycle, is that a great many people “hear” Jesus, but they don’t follow him. And we’re not talking about notorious villains like Herod Antipas, or Pontius Pilate. No, there are a lot of people, people who witnessed miracles, who were among the thousands fed miraculously from those few loaves and fishes, who nonetheless didn’t follow.
“Thanks for lunch, Jesus.” They go on their way. And I bet they told stories about that day when the food kept coming from “God knows where” the rest of their lives but sadly thought that was the extent of it. That’s all, and they settle for it even as Jesus tells them that joining his flock, indeed, really becoming part of the body of Christ, a part of our Lord, they can receive his joy that fulfils and makes our joy complete… and eternal.
Every day we have this choice: to listen to him and to follow him, or to go our own way. To leave the flock and take that chance that neither sheep rustlers nor wolves will get us.
Some of us will be shepherded, but in another flock, with a pastor of some kind. The world is a bewildering place, we all look for guidance, and take comfort in the advice of those who seem to speak in our interest, and out of concern for our well-being. All those “life coaches” out there; in the more spiritual realm, the psychic, the swami, the guru, the yogic master, etc. I’m certain that most are convinced of what they preach and teach, every bit as much as I am, but the problem with all of these alternatives in lifestyle, in philosophy and their advocates is that they’re not God. And if Christ is God, and therefore, truth itself, all else is to some degree or to a great degree, false and so, misleading potentially to a disastrous result.
We hear in that first reading about Paul on a missionary trip to the city of Antioch. Same thing for him. He has the gospel, but those who run the synagogue dismiss it as nonsense, and try to run him out of town; they’re not choosing Christ, they’re not following Jesus. Interesting thing about synagogues at that time: there were a lot of non-Jews who went. Known as “god-fearers” they were pagans intrigued by the God of Israel. Ancient pagan religion would strike us as strange. We might look at all those ruined temples in books and websites about Greek and Roman civilization, but be mistaken in thinking that they were up to something similar to what we do today in our churches. Pagan religion’s great deficit was that it lacked any real moral instruction, that is, it didn’t help people sort out how to live their lives, their best lives. There was, of course, philosophy; but in a largely illiterate society of working people who didn’t have the time let alone the ability to read and study, this was inaccessible. But many had discovered this incredible story of the revelation of the true God, to of all people, escaped slaves who lived in the hills of Judea. The day Paul arrives there were non-Jews who wanted to hear about the God of Israel, to learn about the prophets because they, for all their pagan ways, discerned truth in the Hebrew scriptures, but even more do they hear it in the teaching of Christ, and in the harrowing story of his death and resurrection. And as Paul tells us, it was necessary to give the people of old Israel the choice first, and then, to offer it to the Gentiles; and to know that many would choose life, but some not.
Making a commitment of this kind, to be fair, would have been daunting then. After all, the followers of Christ were persecuted, hunted, pilloried, publicly humiliated, beaten, tortured, publicly executed. I think that might have given me pause. But as I’ve discovered in my life, I can’t turn from the truth and live with any measure of happiness, any sense of contentment, let alone with joy. The right choice becomes obvious.
We have lived in our Western civilization in a time when, frankly, hard choices have been something we thought we could always defer: longer lifespans, modern healthcare, no major wars, famines, and incredible wealth – we’ve all the time, technology, and eventually money we need when we really, really have to make a decision. Consider the debt crisis that is forcing a painful reset of the world economy. When we as a society could have made a less painful, but nonetheless difficult choice in the past to deal with this, we instead listened to those who told us not to worry so much (the economy’s great, we’ve got the statistics to prove it), that we can put it off another year, and that became yet another year, then a decade, then a generation, and so on. Our shepherds have led us into a desert.
But we’ve been in deserts before, that is, the people of God have been there. Those escaped Hebrew slaves, for example. And the social, political, economic predicament, the public and the personal crises, these are all resolved in Christ and in choosing him. With God all things are possible, Jesus tells us. Did we hear him when he said that? Did we believe and so, follow?
I note that this is Catholic education week. Great that kids go to Catholic schools, but that’s not their choice. Catholic parents herd them in there. They are fed to some extent the teachings of Christ, but are quite free to say “thank you” and to leave it at that. Same thing with infant and child baptism, and I daresay with first communions and confirmations. They are a time of choosing for families, for parents, and to some extent, for the children. It will it be the choice to follow, or just say “thanks” for the special day, and leave it at that. But lest any of us regulars presume to sit comfortably in this place, we also need to think through our commitment, our choice, and to renew it with every celebration of the eucharist, with every visit to the confessional, and then follow. Like the religious sister who on her 90th birthday was asked when she chose to be a nun – a bride Christ, paused to consider the question then said, “this morning… and every day of my life.”
You know, when we follow Jesus we slowly become less like sheep and more like him: unafraid, confident that no one can snatch us away; no longer slaves to our appetites; thoughtful, humble, strong and able to get where he’s taking us: where there we will hunger no more, nor thirst, to the springs of the water of life, a place where the tears are wiped away and we are one with God.
Amen.